


after the dust settles

by georgialeigh



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bartender Stiles, College, College Student Stiles, Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-25
Updated: 2014-08-25
Packaged: 2018-02-14 14:42:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2195682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/georgialeigh/pseuds/georgialeigh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is a bartender at Berkeley.</p>
            </blockquote>





	after the dust settles

Lovely girl, won’t you stay, won’t you stay, stay with me?  
All my life I was blind, I was blind, now I see

Stiles is shimmying his ass behind the bar, pouring a round of shots for frat bros with backwards caps on and muscles comparable to those of his favorite sourwolf. He likes when the good cover bands come around - Thursdays and Fridays are live music nights until midnight, and then they put on the oldies and everyone screams I Will Always Love You (Whitney Houston) and Sweet Caroline (Neil Diamond) until the bouncers push and shove and get everybody the hell out. There’s always a few stragglers, but they’re the usual ones, people Stiles has come to know, understands their plights and knows the best person to call in their contact lists to drag them off his bar stools.

He likes working here - The Starry Plough Pub on Shattuck. He started his freshman year as a barback, doing the heavy lifting of the crates of wine and kegs of beer, wiping down pint glasses and cleaning up broken ones. Now, two years later, he’s been promoted to bartender, and he makes solid money when he works - Tuesdays, Thursdays, Fridays and Saturdays. He holes up in the library the other nights of the week. And it’s a good excuse not to go home for holidays.

“Sorry dad, can’t do it, they’re gonna replace me at the bar if I take more than two days,” Stiles says, genuinely full of remorse but relieved to have an excuse for Thanksgiving, Christmas (when his dad comes up and stays with him at the house he shares with six other guys he met in his dorm freshman year), Spring Break (he goes with Lydia and her parents on vacation to the Caribbean every year). He’s spent his summers lazing around the house with his roommates, smoking good weed from their neighbor, who’s a licensed grower, and drinking Bud Lights, pondering the meaning of life. This summer he’s got an official internship at Google. He’s not sure what Mark (pub manager) is going to say.

The clock on the register reads 11:32. He ignores the pleading eyes of the girls all sat around his bar - pretending he doesn’t see their obvious attempts to make conversation with him. He doesn’t fuck the customers before, during, or after his shifts. Leads to fights, and tears, and he’s not good with those. Sometimes a girl at school will recognize him when he’s all bundled in his layers and she’ll grin like she’s the cat that’s caught the canary and he lets her catch him for a little while, is nice, tells her he’s not looking for anything remotely serious.

He has become the master of the one night stand, of being comfortable in his own skin, or at least acting like it. He’s sure he’s slept with at least one or two of the girls at the bar, now probably trying to hit him up for second helpings. He runs his hand through his hair, thick and long, and works his way through the night.

And soon enough it’s 2:30 and he’s walking to the Jeep in the back parking lot, yawning as he climbs up into the front seat.

“Stiles,” a voice says, and Stiles hasn’t been this spastic or flailing in years. His heart is pounding out of his chest.

“Holy shit!” He turns, and there’s Derek, looking smug in a tight short-sleeved blue v-neck. “Dude, what the fuck are you doing?” 

“Visiting,” he says, still smirking. Stiles cheeks are hot, remembering the last few times Derek simply ‘visited.’ He bites his lip a little bit. It’s early in the semester, he doesn’t have class in the morning, and he can afford a few hours off from the library. Derek climbs into the front seat, and Stiles starts the car and they drive back to the Queen Anne Victorian he shares with his roommates on Hillegass Avenue.

Rob, Andy and Steve are watching Adventure Time on the flatscreen in the living room when Stiles unceremoniously lets himself in with Derek in tow.

“Guys, you remember Derek,” he says. “Going to bed.”

“Remember the walls are thin!” Rob yells up and Stiles smirks. 

Stiles’ room is the entire third floor. He’s able to afford the most in rent every month - he makes $600 a night on weekends, after all, and about $300 on Tuesday nights when they do trivia, and let’s face it, Berkeley is full of nerds dying to beat other nerds at trivia.

“So, what brings you up? Is it vampires this time?” Stiles smirks as Derek invades his personal space, crowds him against the edge of Stiles’ bed, still unmade from that morning, Stiles scrambling around to get to class on time, to find a pair of jeans not soaked through with spilled beer and jaeger. 

“You smell wrong,” Derek grumps and Stiles holds back a laugh. He likes when Derek gets like this - possessive, even though Derek’s never laid claim. 

“Gonna fix that big guy?” Stiles says, his voice suddenly sounding gravelly - his body giving him away. Derek smirks a little bit at Stiles’ attraction. Stiles feels his hands on his hips, thumbs pushing the fabric of his t-shirt up, rubbing circles on the warm skin of his sides. then Stiles lifts his shirt over his head, revealing the elastic band on his boxer briefs and his dark treasure trail, tanned torso from summer afternoons playing with the frisbee in the street or lazing around the outdoor pool on campus. Stiles works out more now, and with his long shifts at the bar, and his own body more closely resembles Derek’s now than it had when he was a noodle in high school.

Derek’s lips find Stiles’ collar bone, then his neck. Stiles sucks his lower lip into his mouth, worrying at it, letting Derek relax him. He wonders if this will be the last time. It’s been months since anyone’s even heard from Derek. But Stiles never worries. He always comes back for this.

**Author's Note:**

> Side note: Stiles has a tattoo sleeve that looks like this: http://tattoostage.tumblr.com/post/31403025505
> 
> Not sure if I will continue this, but I like it for now. I can't porn.


End file.
